A Fluffy Evil
by Anticipating Boxes
Summary: Pointless fluff involving a potentially evil kitten.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Don't own, not making any money from. Sucks to be me.

**Notes**: Pointless bit of fluff dedicated to my favourite lady, who asked for a kitten. Most likely set sometime during the second season.

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The creature was too much. It was too evil, too conniving and far too used to manipulation. He couldn't handle it on his own, not without some serious mojo to back him up. Dean backed up a pace. The creature followed, tilting its head to the side. He backed up another step. The creature sat down right in front of him.

"Mew." It said.

"Shit." Dean replied. And two seconds later he had to prise tiny claws from his jeans as one enthusiastic little kitten tried to climb up his legs. He cradled the tiny little body in his hands, feeling fuzz against his skin as the thing practically vibrated in its absurd happiness. "I am so kicking your ass to the curb, buddy."

Giant blue kitten eyes looked up at him with a distinct smugness. As if the little thing knew that he was lying.

"I hate you."

"Mew."

"No, I really hate you. Stop that!"

"Dean?"

Dean quickly turned his body away from the open door and cradled the kitten closer to his chest. "Uh... yeah, Sammy?"

"Who were you talking to just now...?" Sam stopped in the doorway, taking in his brother's posture and the oddly defensive look on his face. "Ok Dean, what is it? What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Mew."

"Shut up!" He hissed it right into his hands, but the kitten sitting on his palm only continued to look smug, and started grooming its side.

"Dean... Is that...? Do you have... a kitten in your hands?"

"Dude, this is not the time to go putting absurd labels on things," Dean replied, the defensive look growing as his shoulders hunched a little. "I think it's possessed. This is not a normal kitten, Sam. It's a being of pure evil!"

"Yeah, sure. Look at its evil widdle paws."

The kitten, being highly contrary, took this as its cue to yawn and curl up in the cradle of Dean's hands. "Sam..."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, grinning ear from ear. "Dean, lets face it. Looks like you're stuck with it."

Dean groaned. "I hate kittens."

The problem with that, he decided, was that he actually really didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes**: No guarantees for more. In fact, this is probably it. I just felt like doing random kitten-related fluff, which means there isn't even a plot.

Enjoy.

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The trouble with the cat was that as soon as you wanted to hate it, as soon as you were ready to kick the damn thing in the face for chewing up your last goddamn pair of decent shoelaces, you couldn't. The cat - hardly more than a kitten - would just stare up at you with wide, ridiculously expressive golden eyes. Like it was the cutest thing in the world and deserved praise just for being awesome enough to spend time with you.

He tried not to let on that he agreed.

"God dammit, Dean! Your kitten just _peed_ on my shoe."

Totally indifferent to the towering beast's rage, the kitten sauntered across the motel room floor as if Sam wasn't glaring daggers at its tiny little body.

"I keep telling you," Dean protested, "it's not my kitten. It's just a small fuzzy thing that just happens to follow me around. That doesn't make it mine."

Contrary as only a cat can be, the kitten decided that now was the perfect time to climb into Dean's duffel bag with the rest of his belongings. The hunter was beginning to think that the cat was sentient, capable of understanding their conversations, and determined to undermine everything he said.

The kitten yawned.

Dean looked across the room to see Sam watching him with an expression that managed to capture 'I told you so' alongside the remaining shoe-related exasperation. "It's not my cat," Dean insisted.

"Whatever. You owe me a new pair of shoes."

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* * *

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"I think I'm going to call him Lucy-Fur."

"Lucifer?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, staring at him across the table. "You want to name your cat after the devil? You want to name that -" Sam pointed out the diner window and back at the car, where said kitten was currently perched in the sun on the dash "- stupidly cute ball of fur after an entity considered by most monotheistic doctrines to be the father of all sin?"

"Lucy. Fur. Like two words, Sam."

"I think you just missed the point I was trying to make here."

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* * *

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Half a day later the newly christened Lucy-Fur threw up on the back seat and Dean considered that solid (or semi-liquid, really) proof that the cat thoroughly deserved its name.


End file.
